Forbidden
by Beacon
Summary: However being a man of strong faith, he did not want to encourage the wrath of the lord, so instead he offered the devil the soul of his unborn child. NaruSasu Spiritual theme...


An: Well, here's my first Narusasu fic, just in time for Halloween! I decided I wanted to write this in honor of Halloween, 'cause it's probably on of my favorite holidays, and then decided I wanted to do a play on devils and demons, so somehow the church got involved. Oh well. I hope you guys enjoy. Review please . Happy Halloween!

Disclaimer: Give you three guesses on whether or not I own Naruto, oh and the first two don't count…. Yeah, I got nothing.

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"_Satan answered the Lord, _

'_From going to and fro on the earth_

_and walking up and down on it.'" _

_-Job 2;2_

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_Forbidden_

_Before I was born, a man in our village became very ill. No one could cure him. All the best doctors tried and failed, so they left the man to die. For months, the man lay in bed and attempted to fight of the disease, but he never recovered; only got worse. _

_Then one day, the Devil appeared before the man, and, in exchange for his soul, offered to cure him. The man sent the Devil away, believing he could recover on his own. However, his condition worsened suddenly, and the doctors soon told the man that he had a very short time left to live, merely days. _

_The Devil appeared again, and offered the same deal. This time, the man considered, and told the Devil to return later. Three days past, and the man began to realize he was not going to get better. In his last hour, the Devil appeared a third time. Again, he offered the same deal. This time the man agreed._

_However, being a man of strong faith, he did not want to encourage the wrath of the Lord, so instead, he offered the Devil the soul of his unborn child for his life. _

_The Devil agreed and cured the man. _

_The baby was born five weeks later, and almost a year after that, I was born. _

My father's church was passed down to my brother, and then to me. I have always loved it. The tall, arched ceiling supported by great sweeping planks. The stained glass windows that tell the stories my mother used to put me to bed with. The alter of old red oak. All of these things have raised me. I've spent almost all of my childhood here, in this old building. It's been passed down through the generations, and as promised, given to me when I turned sixteen, the age my father considers the changing of a boy to a man.

That's when I first noticed him, the boy I mean. The demon boy. He had a habit of always showing up for Sunday services, but he did not come into the church. He did however, lean through the open windows and listen to me preach. He is not allowed in the church, not then and not now. He is not so different from other people, though, I think. He is nice to look at, (though when I told my father this, he struck me and told me never to repeat it again. Blasphemy, he said it was.) However, I hold strong to my opinion. The boy has hair the color of the sun, and his eyes are the color of the sky on a clear day. Three scars on each cheek, the whiskers of the devil that owns his soul, mar his face. His skin is tanned, as he as spent his whole childhood outside in the sun.

After one service, I went out to find him. He was sitting on grave in the churchyard and looking up at the sky. I didn't say anything to him, and he didn't say anything to me, we just sat in silence and enjoyed each other's company.

Tonight I know he's coming. He always does before All Saints Day. He once told me that he could feel the spirits as they rose out of their graves and it stirred his blood. I can't think about him though, I have to finish setting up the sanctuary for tomorrow's service. The communion table with the white cloth is carefully arranged with the goblet of wine and loaf of bread the backer made especially for me this morning. It's all perfect, just the way my father used to set it up.

The church is truly beautiful by candlelight, it's my favorite time to be in the church, when night has taken over the world outside and I'm safe within the church. The flame flickers and I tense as I hear the heavy doors creak open. I can feel his power seeping in and filling the shadows where the firelight does not reach.

"You're not allowed in here." I don't turn to him. Strong arms wrap around my waist. No human and can possibly make it from the big doors at the back up to the alter that quickly, or without making a sound. He does both. "It's forbidden," I continue.

His soft breath tickles my neck and his low growl vibrates against my back.

"Knowing something is forbidden has never stopped me before." He answers softly, lips grazing my neck and ear. I shiver as he does so, though I try to repress it. "My whole existence is forbidden and yet…" he pauses to gently kiss my neck and give it a gentle nip. "Here I stand before you."

"Behind me," I correct, and he laughs softly.

"My mistake. Here I stand behind you. Happy?" I nod and he chuckles and turns me around. His eyes are red tonight, as they always are when the dead excite him. Or I do. He leans down so he is eye level with me. Standing he is a good half head taller than me. He studies me for a moment and then smirks. I open my mouth to speak, but his lips crash against mine, teeth nipping at my lips and clacking against my teeth. It's a bit painful, but it always is with him. It's supposed to be.

He groans and pushes me backwards until I'm pressed against the communion table. His hands roam, through my hair and then down my neck, down my arms and chest and waist. He lingers there and grips me hard, lifting so I'm seated on the table. With a flash of his hand, the wine is over turned and stains the tablecloth as the goblet rolls and crashes to the floor. The bread drops to the dusty floor as well, landing with a thump, and he pushes me back so I'm stretched out on the table. He follows me, and settles on top of my body. I shift underneath him until he is resting between my parted legs. He purrs happily and leans down to nip at my neck. My hands fist in his hair as pulls my robes away from my pale skin.

"Pray." He breaths, and I do. My mouth sounds out the familiar words to the Lord's Prayer, through moans and gasps. I am no longer sure what I say, however, it seems enough for him, and he smirks against my pale skin.

I gasp as he enters me "…And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." He moves, quick and fast and hard and I find I cannot continue. He smirks above me and leans to down to claim my lips.

It's over too quickly. It always is. With one last kiss and pat on my ruffled hair, he is gone, leaving me alone in the church. All the candles have been blown out, and darkness consumes the church. I can't help but smile.


End file.
